


You're So Dark

by deanlovescastielswormstache



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 05:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3476183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanlovescastielswormstache/pseuds/deanlovescastielswormstache
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre supposed that if this hadn't been happening to him, he would have found it hard to believe that you could fall in love with a figment of your imagination, or whatever a guy that kept appearing in you dreams would be called. That being said, Combeferre was most definitely in love with Courfeyrac.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're So Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt. Title from the song "You're So Dark," by the Arctic Monkeys.

Combeferre supposed that if this hadn't been happening to him, he would have found it hard to believe that you could fall in love with a figment of your imagination, or whatever a guy that kept appearing in you dreams would be called. That being said, Combeferre was most definitely in love with Courfeyrac. 

The first time that Courfeyrac had appeared in his dreams, Combeferre had been quite young. These dreams were filled with the two of them being friends as children, running through narrow cobblestone streets and playing with toy swords. Combeferre thought nothing of it, figuring that everyone had an imaginary friend, therefore a dream friend couldn't be that much of a stretch. He even told his friend Enjolras about Courfeyrac, and Enjolras had laughed at Combeferre's adventures during his sleep. 

Combeferre grew, and Courfeyrac grew with him in his dreams. Their sword fights turned into fierce debates and their cavorts in the streets became leisurely afternoons curled around each other reading works of literature. Around this time, Combeferre became aware of his growing attraction to Courfeyrac; though he only appeared in dreams, he seemed as real as Enjolras. Even more real, sometimes. There was no denying that Combeferre's heart pounded as Courfeyrac's bowed lips pulled into an impish grin, or that he felt the urge to pull on Courfeyrac's stray curl  whenever it dangled in front of his hazel eyes. They explored each other's bodies just as they explored ideas and theories, stretching them, learning every angle and tick, working the best one over and over. Combeferre awoke with wetness on his cheeks and in his sheets more times than he could count. 

As they were beginning university, Enjolras came to Combeferre, expression serious and conveyed to him in whispered tones that Courfeyrac had begun to appear in his dreams, along with other names that brushed a sense of recognition in Combeferre's heart. Indeed, Combeferre began seeing some of these characters in his dreams, the hard working Feuilly and blustering Bahorel debating the merits of education, Joly studying anatomy on Bossuet as Musichetta giggled nearby. Jehan, with his curling auburn hair and dog-eared book of poetry, together with Grantaire, enraptured with the stars. But the star in his dreams was always Courfeyrac, who seemed to come alive in the presence of their other friends. Combeferre would awake with a tingling awareness that if he just reached out, he could touch Courfeyrac. He already knew that Courfeyrac smelled of apples and mint as it lingered in his nostrils, that his hair was soft to the touch, as he could still feel it between his fingers, that they would fit together like a puzzle as he still felt the smooth warmth of his skin.

There seemed to be a sequence to  these dreams, as Enjolras seemed to also be having them, and they contained similar events."Do you think they could be events from a past life?" Enjolras asked Combeferre.

Combeferre shrugged. "I'll see what I can find," he said, but in his heart hope bloomed that he may one day meet Courfeyrac and verify what he tasted like in a world outside of his subconscious. Combeferre researched and found nothing about dreaming on past lives that seemed credible enough to pursue. At the edge of despair, an idea came to him. In his dreams, he and Enjolras had the same name. Surely, then, Courfeyrac would have the same name in real life, and it was hardly a common name. With this new spark, Combeferre once again threw himself into his search, feeling a thrum in his chest every time he thought that he was close to beholding Courfeyrac in a world where they could truly develop a relationship. 

Combeferre found Courfeyrac quickly after that, and told Enjolras with an air of exuberance that Enjolras clearly sensed, for he told Combeferre to go visit him on his own, and giving him a reassuring hug before waving him off. Combeferre smiled cheerfully, trying to keep his mind off of the knot tightening in his belly. It took a few hours to drive to Courfeyrac's apartment, and Combeferre stood before the building, trying to build up the courage to behold the actual Courfeyrac.  _What if he is different? What if he doesn't remember me. Or worse, what if he no longer loves me?_

The knock on the door seemed to echo down into Combeferre's bones, and he felt his palms dampening. the door swung open to reveal a man that Combeferre instantly recognized- _Jehan_. He seemed disheveled and sleep-deprived, but he managed a surprised smile when he saw Combeferre.

"Combeferre," he sighed. "We wondered if you were going to come."

Combeferre frowned slightly at his odd choice of words, but he did seem to remember Jehan being slightly cryptic. "I'm here for Courfeyrac. May I speak to him?"

Jehan stared at Combeferre for a moment, a comprehensions dawning before turning and inviting him in. The living room was bright and airy, comprising of shelves and shelves of books, as well as a rather extensive collection of movies by the T.V. Combeferre wondered if Courfeyrac was as big a fan of Lord of the Rings as he was. Combeferre liked to think that he would be. "You might want to sit down," Jehan said, gesturing to a few couches in the living room.

Combeferre sat apprehensively. "What's this about?"

Jehan sat across from him slowly, gathering his thoughts. Jehan took Combeferre's hands in his own and then met Combeferre's eyes, a deep sorrow lodged there within. "Courfeyrac died two days ago in a car accident. His funeral is tomorrow, and he would be delighted if you could make it, I'm sure."

"What? How is that possible? I was supposed to see him." Combeferre looked anywhere but Jehan, trying to find a place where Courfeyrac could be hiding. It was cruel of Courfeyrac to play such a trick, though Combeferre supposed that after all this time he deserved it.

"I know it's a shock. I still can't believe he's gone." Jehan paused to collect himself and continued in a weak voice. "He thought about visiting you, you know. Even made it out of town a few times, but always ended up turning back around. He didn't know if you remembered him, or if you did and didn't want him anymore." 

Combeferre was numb. Courfeyrac had  _almost_ met him. They had  _almost_  dated, he had  _almost_  made him eggs in the morning, and they  _almost_ spent happily ever after together. Combeferre's throat closed around a lump and his eyes burned as he fought to keep visions of their future that would never be at bay. "Can I see his room?" he asked quietly, because if he couldn't have Courfeyrac, he could at least have proof that he had lived.

Jehan nodded and escorted him to Courfeyrac's room, shutting the door gently behind him as he left Combeferre to mourn. Combeferre absorbed the brightly painted wall, the pictures of Courfeyrac with some people, a few of which he recognized from his dreams. Courfeyrac looked exactly as he always had, forever young and smiling and happy, curls and dimples in varying degrees, but always that brilliant smile that made Combeferre's heart ache. On his bed stand was a framed sketch of Combeferre, a work he recognized to be Grantaire's from his dreams. At the thought of Courfeyrac having this small sanctuary to Combeferre so close to his heart, Combeferre sat heavily on the bed, hugging one of the pillows to himself, trying to squeeze out some measure of comfort from it. He breathed in, recognizing the faint scent of apple and mint and the tears came like a flood, Combeferre unable to stop himself from sobbing in great heaving breaths.

Combeferre must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew, Courfeyrac was there in bed with him, smiling gently at Combeferre and wiping away his tears. "You came," he said, his voice wobbly through emotion.

"Of course I came to see you, dimwit. I didn't expect this, though. I thought this would be the happiest day of my life other than the day we would get married. Why didn't you visit me? We could have been happy-" 

Courfeyrac cut off Combeferre by pressing a kiss to his lips. "I didn't think you'd want me. I was on my way to visit you when I got into the car crash."

Combeferre's heart fell once more. Again, they had been thwarted in real life, just as they had in Paris all those years ago.

"Will we ever have our happy ending?" Combeferre asked desperately, though he knew Courfeyrac had no more answers than he did. 

Courfeyrac shrugged. "Maybe not. But we have now." 

Combeferre gazed at Courfeyrac. This was the most real a dream had ever felt, and Combeferre could have sworn that his heart was about to burst. "I love you."

Courfeyrac's face split into a smile, crinkling his eyes, and for one second, Combeferre could pretend that everything was okay and that they were just a normal couple. "I love you too, you nerd."

"You'll still visit my dreams?" Combeferre asked, hopeful and cautious all at once.

"I wouldn't dream of doing anything else for the rest of eternity," Courfeyrac whispered reverently, a hand caressing Combeferre's cheek. Combeferre wrapped his arms around Courfeyrac, feeling consciousness beckoning, and he didn't let go. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Come say hi on [tumblr](http://deanlovescastielswormstache.tumblr.com) or on my [Les Mis blog](http://permets-tu-not-permettez-vous.tumblr.com).


End file.
